


At Last

by littlemisscurious



Category: Actor RPF, Benedict Cumberbatch - Fandom, British Actor RPF
Genre: Developing Relationship, F/M, Friendship, friends turned lovers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-09
Updated: 2016-03-09
Packaged: 2018-05-25 18:49:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,416
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6206446
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/littlemisscurious/pseuds/littlemisscurious





	At Last

“Is he here yet?”

“No, he’s still on his way. Stuck in traffic apparently.”

“We can’t wait any longer, Libby. I’m sorry but we need to start without him.”

With a sigh she nodded and followed the assistant down the long, dimly lit corridor. It was silent back here. Most people were at their assigned positions, waiting for the show to begin. She felt sick. She had wanted him to be here for her, with her, so badly. And now that he was not it felt like a kick in the stomach.

He was always late, she knew that. But for once she had hoped he would be on time. The others were right, though. They’d have to start without him.

Once she’d reached the side of the stage, she took another deep breath and fixed her in-ear monitors. The whispering and quiet laughter from the audience seeped into the small area backstage and made her skin tingle. She was nervous now and was longing for some calming words from him, her best friend, on such an important night as this.

It had been years since she’d been on a stage thanks to that godawful night in the winter of 2010. A brief moment of distraction had led to disaster which would take years to heal, a process which would be culminating, eventually, hopefully, in tonight’s performance. Early on doctors had told her she’d never be able to play again, not like before at least. She had refused to accept that and with his help she had fought to prove them wrong. Endless sessions of physiotherapy, numerous nights spent trying to move her fingers as she had been able to before. Countless days spent crying, crying for lost opportunities, for the loss of her companion, her piano. He’d been there, right next to her, all along. 

Tonight he wasn’t here. He would be, eventually, but right now, when she needed a word of encouragement, a hug, one of his lopsided grins and chuckles when he told her she’d be amazing anyway, right now he wasn’t here.

“…and you’re on in 3..2..1.”

Smoothing down her dress, she walked up the steps and onto the stage under the polite applause of the audience. Many looked doubtful still that she was truly back to her old form. How could she be after what had happened anyway?

With a short glance to her accompanying band, she took her seat and arranged her notes in front of her. Her fingers found the keys easily enough and while she waited for the applause to abate and the lights to be dimmed, she allowed her gaze to wander across the crowd once more.

There he was, at the end of the middle aisle, his suit slightly ruffled and his ginger curls a mess. She didn’t care about his looks, she only cared about him, standing there, smiling at her and giving her two thumbs up just before the lights went down.

With newfound hope and optimism, she began to play like she’d never played before. Her doubts, her worries, her fears, it all fell off her shoulders with every note she played, with every second that passed. She no longer saw the other musicians, didn’t see the audience, didn’t see him. She was lost in her music, in the carefree movement of her fingers as they flitted across the black and white keys, hitting the right ones at the right time, creating the right melody just as she had hoped before.

It was all over way too quickly, she felt. Suddenly the lights flared up again, the audience jumped to their feet, the applause was almost deafening after that peaceful silence in her heart. Still not quite back in the real world, she stood and bowed and thanked her fellow musicians before a bouquet of flowers was placed into her arms. Once more she nodded in thanks before she left the stage with shaking knees.

He was there, right at the bottom of the steps, and caught her when she stumbled into his arms, shaking and crying and overwhelmed. Someone took the flowers, she didn’t know who, as he held her tight, whispering that he’d known it all along that she’d be back one day, better than ever, better than before. She could only nod and hold onto him, her fingers buried in his expensive jacket, her tears leaving stains on the expensive black fabric.

It was his eyes, his gorgeous ocean-like eyes meeting her own blue orbs, that finally calmed her and brought her back down to earth.

“You were wonderful. You were perfect! I knew you could do it,” he mumbled, cupping her cheeks and burying the tips of his fingers in her flaming, red hair.

Quietly, she laughed amidst her tears and he laughed, too. Neither of them could say afterwards how it happened or why it hadn’t happened sooner. But when his lips found hers in a gentle, loving, lingering kiss, it felt right as if they had been made for each other and for nothing else but to kiss the other’s lips again and again and again in this moment of pure happiness and relief. 

She took him home that night, back into her small but cosy apartment in the soon-to-be-trendy East End of London and he loved her like he’d never loved anyone before. In the pale shimmer of the street lamps outside, he explored every inch of her body, kissed her skin again and again, eager to taste her, feel her, touch her, almost as if he was afraid that, once he’d wake up the next morning, she might be gone.

But she wasn’t gone the next day. She was still lying in his arms, her red curls spread over her shoulders, her eyes closed and her breathing even. For a while he watched her sleep, watched her body rise and fall with every breath she took.

How had he not realised for so long that she was the one who made him complete? How could he have shared so many precious, important moments with her without realising that she was the one he also wanted to share the rest of his life with? How could he, how could they, have been so blind?

He wouldn’t let her go now, that much he knew.

When she awoke, the streets below were already bustling with life and the sun was shining high above the rooftops. The bed beside her was empty and she stifled a sob at the thought of him gone.

“Good morning, gorgeous,” he said, standing in the doorway, a towel wrapped around his waist and two cups of coffee in his hands. A few droplets fell onto his shoulders from his slightly longer and still wet hair and she looked up, relieved that he hadn’t left her again after all.

“Good morning, handsome,” she smiled back, sitting up in bed with the duvet covering her modesty. Only too gladly she accepted the coffee as he slipped into bed beside her again, pulling her close with his arm draped around her shoulder.

“What happened last night, Benedict?,” she whispered after a while, her fingertips slowly gliding across the faint freckles on his other arm.

“Something that should have happened long ago. And something we have to repeat as often as possible, if you ask me,” he replied just as quietly, breathing a kiss onto her hair. Ever since he’d woken up earlier, it had become clearer and clearer to him that he wanted her, all of her, in his life, as his life. He only hoped she wanted the same.

A smile spread across her lips and almost shyly she looked up at him. “Why did it take so long for us to realise it?”

He remained silent for a moment, thinking of the right words. “Because I think sometimes we are trying so hard to find happiness in things and places and people far away that we don’t realise our true happiness lies directly in front of our feet. And maybe we needed this time, these years as best friends, to be sure, truly sure, that this is it, that we belong together.”

“Yes…I think you’re right,” she nodded and leaned her head against him again, his heartbeat strong and loud under her ear.

“I love you,” came her whispered confession at last but she couldn’t see only hear his huge, happy smile when he replied, “I love you, too, Elizabeth.”


End file.
